350 AC
by Boltstriker
Summary: Ser Darius Hill is a young bastard knight, the son of Lord Lannister. When his father is named Hand of the King, he'll meet allies and enemies all around in King's Landing. But when the decision comes to choose family or the throne, which will he choose, and how will it impact the realm? DISCLAIMER - DO I LOOK LIKE GRRM TO YOU? NO. DON'T SUE ME, OTHERS TAKE YOU.
1. Introduction

350 AC: An ASOIAF Fanfiction

 **A message from the author:** Oh look, it's that author you barely ever see write anything. Well, it's me, Boltstriker or whatever. What's this fanfiction? Good question! See, I had a wonderful idea that I totally didn't steal from my friends, "Let's make an ASOIAF roleplay community!" So, with the help of said friends, I set up an ASOIAF community where I forced everyone to roleplay like some sort of modern Joffrey. Yeah, I know, great way to influence people. But anyway, the characters in this story are based off of them. Before I explain the synopsis and stop dodging the point, I want to call out three users (but I'll only mention two because I forgot the other one's username), illuminatemmie and CrestfallenHeart. They were big supporters of this ASOIAF community, and in addition to being great friends that deal with my sudden bouts of existential depression, but they've also helped me with ideas and relieving my writer's block while writing this.

So, time for synopsis. As of now, I've written five chapters of 350 AC, so I have a pretty good idea of the universe I've created/built upon. As the title would suggest, this story takes place fifty years after the year 300 AC (the first day of which was the Purple Wedding, funnily enough), and most of the events in the A Song of Ice and Fire novels. This new Westeros is experienced through the eyes of Ser Darius Hill, the bastard of Lord Tybolt Lannister and Lady Cerenna Brax, a skilled swordsman living in Casterly Rock by the grace of his lord father. Now, if you're a true fan of my writings, first of all, what are you doing with your life? But seriously, if you recognize the name Darius from that one stupid Percy Jackson fanfiction I wrote like a year ago, that's because I really like the name Darius, alright? Not to mention, self-insert is always easiest (that was a joke, don't spam me with PMs like "BOLTSTRIKER SELF INSERT ISN'T REAL FICTION"). Anyway, when Lord Tybolt is named Hand of the King to King Aemon Targaryen (Yeah, I think Jon'll be on the throne, you gonna murder me for it?), Darius will meet a colorful cast of characters, including Princess Aemma Targaryen (based off of the socially awkward yet outspoken and opinionated CrestfallenHeart), Lord Endrew Baratheon and his twin sister Valkyrie (based off of the great sense of humor and overall geniality of illuminatemmie), and Lady Lily Tyrell (based off of my girlfriend who had the sense not to delve into the cancer that is this site). Now, if you can read inside parentheses, you'll think I'm _very original 100%_ , but this is fanfiction so you don't get metaknowledge unless it's in inner monologues so shhhhhhhhh. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy 350 AC, and please do tell me your criticisms, constructive or otherwise. If there's something you'd like to see (no lemons though, unless I can pay an author to write something like that… I suck at romance/sexual fiction), just let me know with a review or a PM. I'm always open to ideas. And now, we delve into the mind of Darius Hill…


	2. Bastard of the Rock

350 AC

The golden sun rose over Casterly Rock at daybreak, the same as ever. Glimmers of light streamed into the quarters of the best sword in the Westerlands, casting a pink light through crimson drapes. A knock on the door awakened him from his slumber, as a Lannister servant entered his room bearing news.

"Ser Darius, your lord father orders you in the Great Hall by midday. Your squire will pack for your departure," said the servant.

 _Easy for you to say, you cheeky bastard,_ thought Ser Darius, _I haven't had a squire in three years._ Darius Hill dressed himself, as he had for two-and-twenty years prior. Highborn or not, a bastard was still a bastard, and Darius never prided himself with squires or pages. The only squire he'd had was the foolish boy Ander Jast, who had gotten himself killed during the Spicer Rebellion.

Darius donned himself in a crimson and gold doublet and plain padded armor, layered further with gilded steel colored blood red. He strapped his shield to his back, a wooded piece of junk weathered from many battles and tourneys, bearing the red lion of the Lannister bastards and the silver unicorn of Brax bastards, for his father Lord Tybolt and his mother Lady Cerenna. It was an ugly shield, but it earned him recognition, and soon every man and woman knew that the red and silver-cloaked horse meant defeat for anyone on the wrong side of his lance or sword. Finally, Darius donned his scabbard and placed his sword inside, a double-sided steel bastard sword with a silver hilt dotted with amethysts, a gift from his grandfather, Lord Jon Brax.

Ser Darius descended from his quarters in the upper castle into the deeper reaches of the Rock until only torchlight lit the way, and finally the dark halls opened up into the Great Hall. The hall was a marvel to behold, a network of intricate marble beams and golden ornaments, and in the center of it all was the golden throne of the Rock, carved out by Lord Corlos Casterly thousands of years ago.

"Darius, so wonderful of you to join us this fine morning," called out Lord Tybolt Lannister, Warden of the West, Shield of Lannisport, and Lord of Casterly Rock.

Lord Tybolt was a stern and gruff, yet compassionate man, with battle scars and darkened eyes shielding his loving interior. Darius could remember all those times when his lady mother would dote on and on about how wonderful of a man Lord Tybolt was, and when he finally came to Casterly Rock at seven-and-ten, he surely found that out soon enough. His retinue was cold and calculating, however, and true to the Lannister name down to the bone. Beside the golden throne stood Lady Elna Foote, a strong woman who ruled with an iron fist when Lord Tybolt's shortcomings shone through. Though she always looked upon Darius in disdain, the knight could not deny that Lady Elna's policies had saved the Westerlands many a time. Next to her stood Maester Duran, a former seneschal of the Citadel, chosen to serve House Lannister after years of education in economics, astronomy, and history, though the maester had a reputation of low cunning, which put the Rock on alert. To Duran's side stood Ser Desmond Mallister, a war-hardened brute who served as Casterly Rock's master-at-arms, though the years had not been kind to the Riverlander, whose grey beard and sagging jowls showed that Desmond was not as dangerous as he once was. Next stood Ser Laurence Jaspar, a young landed knight from the Vale and captain of Lord Tybolt's household guard.

To the other side of Lord Tybolt's ornate throne stood his son and lawful heir, Lord Andrew Lannister, a fearsome and ferocious tactical commander, aged six-and-twenty, with the unfortunate curse of a damaged leg from a stone wall toppling onto him. Though not the greatest of Ser Darius's friends, the unknighted Lord Andrew could devise any strategy, and Darius could always carry it to fruition. The smallfolk japed that the Rains of Castamere became more about the red and gold lions of the two Lannister lordlings than any rebellion, since no man stood in the way of the Lannister forces. To Lord Andrew's left stood Lady Tyria, a scant girl aged four-and-ten, with a love for reading and intellectual pursuits. She was betrothed to Ser Harris Jast, an arrogant piece of slime not worthy of his father's name, but Tyria's hand in marriage came with a staunch ally and a thousand swords. No one was sure how House Jast became so powerful in the last half a century, but Lord Antario's marriage to Lady Lanna Lannister most definitely had something to do with it. Finally, the tiny Lord Jace, a boy of eight, with huge aspirations of knighthood and kingship and dragon-slaying, though his art was his most promising quality. Never had Ser Darius seen a boy draw such masterpieces, and Maester Duran suggested training him to be a painter, though Lady Elna insisted he was only a boy.

Coming back to reality, Ser Darius managed a response, "My lord, what have you called upon me for?"

"You all, you'll want to listen to this too. Over there, all of you…" Lord Tybolt motioned for those flanking his sides to face him. "As you all know, His Grace King Aemon is an old friend of mine, and he has called upon me for a monumental favor. His Grace has named me Hand of the King, and asks for the honor of my arrival in King's Landing at once."

Ser Darius sickened at the thought of that ruined and melted hovel. Any man with sense would have moved the capital city to somewhere less utterly disgusting than King's Landing, a ruined wasteland burned by dragonfire. The Second War of Conquest, the Second Dance, whatever the smallfolk were calling it now, had not been kind to the city.

"Lord Tybolt, you must needs choose a household guard for the capital," suggested Maester Duran.

"I will bring Ser Desmond with me, as well as twenty of his men. King Aemon assures me that the Gold Cloaks will be in good hands and able to protect all of us. I have also named Lord Jast the castellan of Casterly Rock to rule in my stead. I hope you serve him as well as you serve me, maester." Lord Tybolt looked sternly at his maester, a man whom he hesitated to call a friend. "Tyria and Jace will stay here with you, Ser Laurence, and Lord Jast, while Lady Elna and I will travel to King's Landing with Andrew and Darius."

"Yes, my lord," Maester Duran bowed. "When will you begin your travels?"

"Nightfall."

Ser Darius was hauling his saddlebag through the mountaintop courtyard when Lord Andrew caught his eye. "Evening Andrew," he called.

"Aye, evening Darius! Wonderful night for a ride…" He'd limp over, leaning on a brass cane he'd used since his accident. "Ser, I trust you know Father has plans for you in King's Landing."

"I would assume he has plans for all of us. Marriage proposals, courtyard courtesies… Paramount lordship must be a dreadful task, I'm not sure how you'll manage it."

"Darius, this is serious. You're a bastard. You know that, I know that, Lord Tybolt knows that, and every man from here to Sunspear knows that. You're my brother, and Father's son, and you'll always have a place in my heart and at my hearth, but the lords and ladies of Westeros will look down upon House Lannister if Ser Darius Hill is seated beside Lord Tybolt Lannister." The seasoned lordling looked at Ser Darius with a pained expression and a sharp eye. "Darius, I'm afraid that once we reach the capital, you may not be seeing us for a while."

As Lord Andrew limped away, the golden lion billowing behind him on a crimson cloak, Ser Darius felt indignant, but strangely grateful. If Darius walked through the gates of King's Landing, expecting a warm welcome, it would be surprising to be ripped away from his family. It was not unexpected either, as not all nobles were as fond of their bastards as Tybolt the Lion. But he also was enraged by his father's judgement, however sensible it was. _Fuck the nobles, I'll show them what a bastard can do._

As Lord Tybolt's party edged against the open gates of the Rock, a septon bellowed blessings upon the host. Darius could make out "May the Warrior give them strength on the Gold Road" and "May the Stranger never exact his grasp," but he didn't believe a word of it. The septon finished, and the Lannister host was off, trotting slowly down the promontories that overlooked Lannisport. It took until the hour of the wolf to reach the gates of Lannisport, but from then it was a straight shot to the capital.


	3. The Capital

350 AC

The gold road was mountainous and treacherous, yet low and boring. It took a fortnight to travel from the Rock to King's Landing, and it was a dangerously boring journey. For five days not a single animal or rider had harassed their travels, and only on the sixth day did a mountain lion maul a man, only to be killed seconds after. The men had found the journey prosperous and blissful, but Darius survived on adrenaline. In the day, Andrew and he would reminisce about battles past fought, and in the night, the two half-brothers would devise strategies for the next rebellion or war. When the Lion's Gate of King's Landing became visible on the fifteenth day, Darius nearly leapt off his stallion in joy. The ride to the gate became the most grueling part of the travels yet, tension and anticipation rising with every clop of a hoof.

The Lion's Gate was relatively impressive, or it would have been if half of the bronze lion crowning the gate hadn't been completely melted. In fact, every wall surrounding the city seemed to have burn marks or siege scars from invasions past. The worst had been Queen Daenerys's takeover of King's Landing. Mere weeks after Queen Cersei Lannister had burnt the Red Keep with wildfire during King Aegon VI's sack of the city, Queen Daenerys the Unburnt came with an army of foreign soldiers and savages, laying waste to the capital with dragonfire. Every child in the Seven Kingdoms knew of how Drogon the Black Beast melted Arianne Martell and her babe to ashes as they watched the city burn. Hushed whisperers spoke of worse crimes; Dothraki raping women and children alike, the mass murder of innocents, and many more. The Mother of Dragons did not stay in the capital long, though, as she left a smoking ruin behind her to battle the Others with the armies of Winterfell. It had taken only fifty years for the nobles of Westeros to call the Long Night folly for children, but the Starks in Winterfell knew better.

To Ser Darius's surprise, King Aemon himself greeted his old friend at the gate. Five knights of his Kingsguard flanked him, with twenty gold cloaks and Targaryen house guards following behind, billowing red dragons on black flying above their heads. The ruined Lion's Gate opened, and His Grace stepped through. The King of the Seven Kingdoms wore a quartered black and red doublet, covered by weathered black plate, with an expression as weathered as his armor. The man had seen a hundred tourneys and battles, but ruling over a ruined city in a ruined kingdom had left the greatest toll on the king.

To his left stood Ser Perros Blackmont, the Bold Buzzard, a knight of sixty years who had served as Kingsguard since the days of old King Jon. Ser Perros was regarded as the greatest knight in the Seven Kingdoms, a loyal man seasoned with experience and bloodshed in the name of House Targaryen. Four other Kingsguard stood beside King Aemon and Ser Perros, but Darius only knew Ser Samwise Taylor, a landed knight of the Riverlands renowned for his skill in the joust, unseating even Ser Perros himself in a tourney at Grandview. Ser Samwise was not a particularly valiant or chivalrous knight, if the smallfolk could be believed, but all the girls lowborn and highborn fawned over the scrappy young man like wolves to their alpha.

"Lord Tybolt Lannister!" the king announced, smiling at his old friend. Lord Tybolt and then Prince Aemon had squired, ridden, and grew up together in King's Landing for a scant time before the Lord of Lannister grew into his title. "Seems the Young Lion isn't so young anymore. Come here, old friend!"

Lord Tybolt approached His Grace genially, and the dragon king embraced his bannerman. "It appears not," said Lord Tybolt.

"Ah, my lord, what a wonderful party you've brought here." King Aemon turned to Andrew. "This man must be Lord Andrew, the shrewdest strategist the Westerlands has ever seen! Lord Andrew, pleased to meet you."

"It is an honor, Your Grace," said Andrew, bowing.

"And this lovely lady must be your wife, Lady Elna." His Grace brought up Lady Elna's hand and bent down, kissing it gently. As rough as he might look, Aemon Targaryen knew his courtesies.

"My lord Tybolt has told me much of your valor, Your Grace." Lady Elna curtsied, her golden dress creasing with her bow.

"And, who do we have here?" King Aemon turned to Darius, his brown eyes that clashed with his blonde hair catching the mismatched eyes of the Lannister bastard.

"Ser Darius Hill, if it please you, Your Grace." Darius placed his sword point in the ground, bowing deeply.

"The mighty bastard of the Rock, aye. The stories I've heard about you, lad, are downright impressive," the king said slowly. He turned back to Lord Tybolt. "This shitpile of a gate is no place for reunions, eh? Come, I mean to introduce you at court."

The Red Keep was even more of a nightmare than Ser Darius had imagined. The Tower of the Hand, scorched by wildfire let loose by Queen Cersei the Brotherfucker. Maegor's Holdfast, set aflame by Drogon the Black Beast and Queen Daenerys Targaryen. The throne room, location of the once mighty Iron Throne that had held King Aegon the Conqueror, King Jaehaerys the Conciliator, King Daeron the Good, and King Aegon the Unlikely high above the subjects of Westeros, a red shell housing a giant heap of scrap metal resembling a chair reduced to a pyre by both queens. The godswood, the holy garden of House Stark's old gods, the gods of King Jon, a dead fireplace of blackened wood and empty riverbeds. The royal sept of the Red Keep, where every Targaryen king had prayed since the Conquest, a pile of rubble, ash, and wax. In fifty years, the men of King's Landing had tried to restore the Red Keep to its former glory, but every year a new collapse was discovered, a new dilapidation uncovered. King Aemon was nearing the point of realization that the Red Keep was cursed.

Lord Tybolt's party was welcomed in the throne room, where the remaining two knights of the Kingsguard stood watch over the Iron Throne. Four dozen lords and ladies stood waiting in the hall, and Ser Darius decided it would be best to join them, along with Ser Desmond Mallister. King Aemon sat upon the husk that remained of his throne, and looked down at his councilors below him. Grand Maester Ashe, a man of thirty years, chosen by the Conclave to serve His Grace after years of exemplary work at the Citadel and Goldengrove in the Reach, though a westerlander by birth. Lord Endrew Baratheon, the young lord of Storm's End and master of ships, commander of the largest fleet in Westeros, and captain of the warship King Robert's Hammer, given as reparation to House Baratheon by King Jon. Ser Donnel Waynwood, knight of Ironoaks, fabled to have quelled the great Royce uprising of 323 with only his words in the name of Lord Harrold Arryn. Great men stood before the court, but the small council was small that day, as Ser Darius soon found out.

"First order of business," announced the Grand Maester, "His Grace, King Aemon Targaryen, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm wishes to welcome his new Hand of the King, Lord Tybolt Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, and Shield of Lannisport to King's Landing. Welcome Lord Lannister, we hope you are happy here."

"Thank you, Grand Maester, and thank you, Your Grace, for this wonderful opportunity. As Lord of Casterly Rock, I have always served you loyally, and to serve you as Hand is a great honor to me and House Lannister. I only hope you feel the same."

"My lord, come!" announced the king. "Sit among these fine men! You are their leader now, my strong right hand."

Lord Tybolt took a seat to the left of Ser Endrew, greeting the storm lord with a warm smile. Ser Endrew looked down at Lord Andrew, and then caught Darius's eye, which the bastard knight replied to with a nod.

Grand Maester Ashe spoke again, "Lord Willas Tyrell, Warden of the South, His Grace King Aemon's master of coin, has resigned his positioned to reign at Highgarden in his old age. Lord Tyrell has nominated his nephew Ser Loren to serve in his place. Does His Grace wish to second this nomination?"

"Ah, let Lord Lannister decide. He's Hand now, and I've ruled for two long moons without a Hand," called Aemon from atop the iron amalgam.

Lord Tybolt rose from the small council table, not taken aback in the slightest, "Lord Willas is a shrewd and intelligent man, and I would counsel my king to heed his advice and allow Ser Loren to serve him as master of coin."

"Then so be it," called out His Grace. "I look forward to seeing Ser Loren soon, in the small council chambers."

"Ser Darius Hill, natural son of Lord Tybolt Lannister, please step forward," proclaimed Maester Ashe, and Ser Darius did as he was bid. "You are a celebrated knight, known in the Seven Kingdoms as the greatest sword in the Westerlands. You are a veteran of dozens of battles, and His Grace has decided to reward you for your service to House Lannister and the Crown. He names you Commander of the City Watch of King's Landing."

 _Commander of the gold cloaks? Is this king fucking mad?_ thought Ser Darius. The gold cloaks were scum from the alleys of the capital, promised with a chance at food if they joined the City Watch. The commander of the gold cloaks was a glorified lord of gutter rats. _You are a gutter rat, a bastard. Never forget._

"And finally, His Grace has proposed a marriage proposal between his daughter Princess Aemma and Lord Andrew Lannister, heir to Casterly Rock. He asks that Lord Tybolt accepts this proposal, so that the noble Houses Targaryen and Lannister may be joined in holy matrimony."

Darius found Princess Aemma in the room, a shy maiden of six-and-ten hiding behind a Kingsguard, Ser Arstan Grandison, if Ser Darius remembered correctly. Her face flushed of color when she heard Maester Ashe speak those words, and the bastard warrior could only feel empathy for her. A scared girl forced into a marriage proposal was such a terrible thing to behold, as the Lannisters had seen when Lady Tyria was betrothed to the Jast boy.

Ser Desmond turned to Darius, "I'm not sure to be sorrier for, her or you."


	4. The Maidenvault

350 AC

A week had passed since the arrival of Lord Tybolt Lannister in King's Landing, and it was a cruel and tough week for Ser Darius. The men of the City Watch had not taken kindly to an outsider leading them, not after their last commander. An officer named Robyn had told him stories of the last commander of the gold cloaks, a lowborn man named Harlan who rose through the ranks. He was a man of the people, Robyn had said, and the gold cloaks loved him. _I am an outsider, and a bastard._ _These men have no reason to love me as they did Commander Harlan._

On the other hand, the noblemen of the Red Keep had welcomed Darius with open arms, especially Lord Endrew Baratheon. Lord Endrew was an enigma, it seemed, and Ser Darius could never quite figure out his motives. Upon their first meeting, the two began discussing what any two young men would, women. Lord Endrew had jokingly talked of Princess Aemma's ladies-in-waiting and their beauty, but Ser Darius insisted they meet them, and so the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands walked aside a Lannister bastard to meet the heir apparent to the Iron Throne and her lady friends.

A knock on the door to the Maidenvault had stirred the slumbering ladies, and for once in a week Ser Darius felt genuinely excited.

"Who disturbs us?" shouted a lady irritably.

"Lord Endrew Baratheon, and Ser Darius Hill. Surely you could spare some time to speak with us, especially given the week my crimson-clad friend has experienced."

"Let them in," cooed the soft voice of Princess Aemma Targaryen, and the ornate door to the vault opened slowly.

Inside sat four ladies, each seated on piles of cushions around the hearth. Princess Aemma Targaryen was clad in a black and red gown, staring at the hearth intently. To her right sat Lady Alys Waynwood, daughter of Ser Donnel, who donned a green and sable dress, simply woven. To Princess Aemma's left sat a maiden of pure beauty, at least in Darius's mind, whom he had only seen a mere three times before, Lady Lily Tyrell, daughter of Lord Willas. And to Lord Endrew's apparent surprise, to Lady Lily's left was seated an intense woman clad in a black and gold hauberk, a steel longsword strewn at her side.

"Welcome, Ser Darius," said Princess Aemma unwaveringly, "I doubt you will be uncomfortable here." Aemma gestured to her left, resting a hand on Lady Tyrell's verdant gown, brushing away her brown locks.

"The bastard's got a lady love, aye, princess?" The armored woman looked over her shoulder at the two men. "And brother, it's been far too long."

"Val…" muttered Lord Endrew.

"That's Lady Valkyrie to you, _Lord Endrew_ ," sniggered Lady Valkyrie Baratheon. "Why am I here? Good question. You see, the princess here sent me a raven, and of course, dark wings, dark words. Princess Aemma told me that there might be a conspiracy against her father, His Grace King Aemon. And I told good Maester Eldon, 'How can I sit here, holding Storm's End for my brother, when King Aemon Targaryen sits the Iron Throne amongst dangerous men? My brother can't do shit, so maybe it's time for a dangerous woman to join the fray.' And so here I am." Valkyrie Baratheon took a swig of ale, laughing.

"Lady Val, you disrespect your brother with a guest in our lieu?" snapped Alys Waynwood.

"Aye, I disrespect my weak brother in front of a bastard. No offense to you, ser."

"No offense taken, my lady," replied Darius. Darius decided Valkyrie Baratheon was interesting, but also fun and light-hearted, which made her a good ally. He made sure to keep a good relationship with the Baratheon twins thereafter.

"Darius Hill, best sword in the westerlands," Valkyrie began, "How good is that sword, Darius?" Darius held up his sword, its amethysts glimmering in the firelight, and Lady Baratheon nodded in approval. "Impressive. I might need to fight you out in the yard sometime, eh?"

"Enough of this," Princess Aemma muttered, before repeating it louder, "Enough of this. There are more important matters at hand! The master of whisperers, Symon Santagar, did not die of a flux. Maester Ashe tried to cover up his murder, but I knew better. The old Hand, Lord Monterys Velaryon, murdered as well. I don't know by who, but victims of plague and flux don't have stab wounds."

"And you chose to discuss this with us, why?" asked Darius politely.

"Because I know I can trust both of you. Lord Endrew is the brother of my dearest friend Valkyrie, and you are one of the noblest men I've met, bastard or no. Your brother should have been the baseborn one, the way he treats me."

"I cannot say I was in favor of your betrothal to Lord Andrew, my lady, no," said Ser Darius in agreement.

"Ser Darius, Princess Aemma tells us queer things about Andrew," piped up Lady Lily, "Rudeness, cruelness, and the like. Could this be why you were not in favor of this betrothal?"

 _She's a keen one_ , thought Darius. "I was not in favor of it because I know he loved a daughter of Lord Yarwyck, my lady. Whatever Andrew is, I cannot say, but he's my brother, and I will not slander him behind his back."

"Of course not, my knight of Lannister," said Lady Tyrell, chuckling.

"Be on the watch, my lords, for danger lurks within these halls," said Aemma Targaryen, staring into the fireplace once more.

Not one moon's turn later had the princess's words come to fruition, when the second Hand in half a year was laid to rest. However, not only was Lord Tybolt Lannister laid in state among the Seven in the Great Sept of Baelor, King Aemon Targaryen was also lain beside him. The capital was abuzz with talk of murder and plague, but none knew the true story but the killer. Every bell in the city rang in mourning, and Ser Darius wept in the Great Sept among Lord Andrew, Princess Aemma, and hundreds of others who had known these two great men by name only. Lord Andrew, now Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West, attempted to comfort the princess, but she refused him at every turn. Meanwhile, Ser Darius tore himself away from his father's body, seeking guidance from the High Septon. His High Holiness was a stout man of great piety, and a friend to King Aemon in times of religious matters.

"Your High Holiness…" began Ser Darius, tears streaming from his face, "When will y-you anoint the new queen?"

The High Septon looked at him solemnly, "By the laws set in the Great Council of 101, Aemma Targaryen will not inherit the Iron Throne."

Anger overcame him, tearing him away from grief momentarily, "Daenerys Targaryen ruled from the Iron Throne, and she was the last Targaryen, same as Her Grace."

"Princess Aemma's future husband must rule in her stead, or the closest relative to her must inherit ahead of her. Only then will I anoint a successor to the Iron Throne."

"Then there will be a Great Council, Your High Holiness." Darius turned to find Maester Ashe lingering behind him. "Maester Ashe, send ravens to every lord in the Seven Kingdoms, summoning them to the capital. If His High Holiness will not choose Princess Aemma as the rightful Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, perhaps her rightful subjects will."

"Ser Darius, you are in no position to be ordering such an act. The will of His Grace named Lord Lannister as Protector of the Realm should he die," exclaimed the Grand Maester.

"Lord _Tybolt_ Lannister, Grand Maester, not Lord _Andrew_ Lannister. If my brother is named Protector of the Realm, he will seize the throne for himself and marry Queen Aemma in a fortnight."

" _Princess_ Aemma and Lord Andrew are bound by a holy vow of betrothal," interjected the High Septon. "Are you a man to defile the will of the gods?"

"I am a simple man, Your High Holiness. I have no fancy titles, nor do I speak for the gods, but I do speak for what is right. By the laws of gods and men, Aemma Targaryen should be sitting atop the Iron Throne as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

"There will be no Great Council. There will be no anointing of a new monarch. I will pray for seven days and seven nights, as the High Septon did before King Aegon the Conqueror was crowned, and at the end of this period I will decide what action to take. Seven blessings on you, Ser Darius, and may Lord Tybolt rest in peace."

"Seven blessings, Your High Holiness. I hope they serve you well."


	5. Treason

350 AC

And so the High Septon prayed for seven days and seven nights, and much to Ser Darius Hill's chagrin, His High Holiness decided to anoint Andrew Lannister as King as soon as he married Aemma Targaryen.

Very early one morning, Ser Darius came to Lord Andrew in the Red Keep throne room, where the future king sat atop the Iron Throne.

"I resign my position as Commander of the City Watch," proclaimed Darius.

"You mean to steal my bride from me, brother," replied Lord Andrew.

"She is not a slave to be bought, sold, or stolen. She is Queen Aemma Targaryen, rightful ruler of Westeros."

"She is bound to me by a holy vow of betrothal, and by the laws of gods and men, she is to be my wife."  
"Andrew, that's bullshit and you know it. You're my brother, and I'll never presume to harm you, but I don't like what I hear about you these days. You want power."

"Darius, one more snap like that and I'll put you in the black cells. I could already have your head for treason."

"With no evidence? The people would despise you."

"They already despise me, but it is not the people who decide their rulers. Get out of my city by daybreak tomorrow, or I'll have your head."

"Always an escalator, eh? Be seeing you, my lord."

Darius exited the throne room, and after he escaped Andrew's line of sight, dashed to the Maidenvault. The winding staircases seemed foreign to him now, though he had lived in the castle for a month now. His black doublet hugged his chest as wind blew against his torso. _He was wearing crimson and gold_ , Darius recalled, _he mourned for less than a week_.

"This is urgent, my ladies," called Ser Darius through the door to the vault.

Lady Lily Tyrell had opened the door this time, as Princess Aemma and Lady Valkyrie were pacing about the room. Lord Endrew was already inside, seated at a table, picking at bacon.

"We must evacuate Queen Aemma at once," said Ser Darius solemnly. "Andrew gave me an ultimatum of daybreak tomorrow before he has my head, and I do not intend to let my shit of a brother abuse Her Grace while I look up from whatever hell is reserved for bastards."

"Aye, that fucker wants you out, he wants all of us out. Endrew, how many men are here with us from Storm's End?" asked Valkyrie Baratheon.

"Forty of mine, and ten of yours."

"Send a messenger down to the barracks. We ride at dusk."

"My lords, my ladies," said Lady Lily calmly, "We are sure of our enemies, but we know not our allies. How will we be safe anywhere if our trust is misplaced?"

"Lady Lily makes a valid point," reasoned Darius.

Valkyrie laughed, "The bastard's lady love makes the first good point of the morning." It had become her joke that Darius and Lily were secret lovers, though it had not been entirely unwarranted. It was not hard to see the looks that both of them exchanged, and if truth be told, Darius would not be disappointed if Lady Baratheon's jape came to fruition.

"We can trust the men sworn to Storm's End," stated Lord Endrew. "Lady Tyrell, will your father be willing to support our cause?"

"My father will support our cause if he has good reason to, and right now we have fifty swords to Queen Aemma's name," Lily replied.

"We have five-and-thirty thousand swords to Queen Aemma's name if we are safe in Storm's End, and we will have over one-hundred thousand swords if Lord Willas joins his forces with ours."

This time, Aemma spoke up, "Meanwhile, _my intended_ has the might of the Crownlands, the Westerlands, and presumably the North and the Vale of Arryn."

"Not if we can rally them first," Ser Darius said. "What do you two know of Lady Angelina Stark and Lady Alyssa Arryn?"

"Those two are my correspondents, aye," Valkyrie said, "I'll have Maester Pylos send them both a raven when we're safe in Storm's End."

Ser Darius grumbled, but Aemma spoke up, "We ride at dusk, indeed. Ser Darius, can you provide us a clear path to the King's Gate?"

"I'll have Ser Desmond send word," said Darius. He had given Ser Desmond Mallister command of the gold cloaks in his stead, though he was unsure if Andrew would let that stay for long.

"If we're not out of the city by dusk, we'll be trapped. Meet under cover of darkness and cloak on the Hook by sunset, and tell no one. We can trust no one," Aemma said confidently.

Darius opened up the door of the Maidenvault for the ladies and Endrew, and caught the hard gaze of Ser Perros Blackmont, strong and unwavering. The bastard's expression must have been mortified; he was sure everyone in that room could be trusted, but Ser Perros must have heard every single bit of it.

"Morning, Ser Perros," Darius said nonchalantly. The Kingsguard nodded.

By high noon Darius had packed all his belongings, save for his plate and blade. As the knight gazed at the sword Lord Brax gave to him, he lingered on a past dream of his, to wield a Valyrian steel blade. Whispers were said of Asshai'i shadowbinders, Qohorik smiths, and dragon queens who knew the secrets of making the marvelous metal. Lord Endrew had once spoken of such a smith, one who melted down the sword of House Stark and turned it into the cursed pair of Valyrian longswords, Widow's Wail and Oathkeeper, for a bastard king and a soiled knight. But Widow's Wail still lay in the crypts of Casterly Rock, untouched by man or woman since the death of King Joffrey the Illborn, save for the men who transported it to the Rock. There were few Valyrian blades left in the Seven Kingdoms, but Widow's Wail had always temped him since the moment he came to the Rock. Once, when Darius still lived at Hornvale, he had suggested to Lord Jon that they steal a Valyrian blade, or buy one from an ironborn house or an eastern trader. Lord Brax had only laughed at his grandson, calling it a dreamer's folly.

Upon exiting the Red Keep, Darius decided to pay Ser Desmond a visit on the walls of the city, overlooking Blackwater Bay in all its blazed glory.

"Ser, you sent for me?" asked Ser Desmond.

"Indeed," Darius replied. "Ser Desmond, I have a favor to ask of you."

"If it is within my power, I will grant it."

"Send word to the King's Gate that I will be leaving the city with four other nobles and fifty men-at-arms. And do not let Andrew know. This is strictly confidential."

"Aye, confidential. I'll keep the gate clear for you, and I wish you safe travels. Might I ask where you're heading?"

"Alas, I cannot tell you. Apologies, ser."

"You're acting very suspicious, boy…" muttered Desmond as Darius walked away.

Ser Darius mounted a black stallion from the stables, thanking the stableboy with a silver stag, riding off to a tavern on the Hook, hidden from the view of the Red Keep's guards. Hours passed, and while patrons came and went, laughing and drinking and whoring, Darius sat in the corner, ever-present. As the sun began to descend from view of the tavern's front windows, the bastard left the establishment to find the Baratheon twins waiting.

"Cheating on your lady love, Darius?" Valkyrie called out, laughing.

"Use respect," muttered Lord Endrew.

"Why? We're in the biggest shitpile in the Seven Kingdoms! We may as well act like it," exclaimed Valkyrie.

"Let's just wait for Lady Lily and Her Grace," said Darius calmly.

"Should a Kingsguard be escorting them?" asked Endrew.

"Ser Samwise should be guarding her, from what I heard," affirmed Valkyrie, "He said another would be coming as well."

"Hopefully we can trust this other knight," muttered Endrew.

"Samwise Taylor is a sworn brother of the Kingsguard. I would vouch my life for his honor, or the honor of any of his fellow Kingsguard," protested Darius.

"Aye, but my brother has a point. Jaime Lannister, that was a dangerous Kingsguard. Mandon Moore, Meryn Trant, Criston Cole, Terrence Toyne, and the Clegane brothers, all Kingsguard! Seven hells, Darius, you can't trust a man because he swore his life to a king."

"You discredit brave men like Barristan Selmy, Aemon Targaryen, Arthur Dayne, Gwayne Corbray, and Duncan the Tall. There are some honorable men on King Aemon's former Kingsguard, and having Ser Samwise, if no one else, gives Her Grace favor with the smallfolk. Why, if valiant Samwise Taylor is serving Queen Aemma, maybe she's worth fighting for."

"Keep your voice down, ser," Endrew said, "There are eyes everywhere."

"Including those six," exclaimed Valkyrie, pointing at two armored and hooded knights guarding two equally hooded noblewomen.

The party of three approached the newcomers, who Darius knew at once to be Ser Samwise, Queen Aemma, Lily Tyrell, and another knight of the Kingsguard. _But who?_

"Let's get out of here," murmured Aemma, and the seven were off.

Valkyrie had placed the Baratheon men-at-arms in Fishmonger's Square, and they were signaled as soon as Aemma's guard had raced through the Hook and down to the River Gate. The smallfolk were surprised to see fifty armed men immediately rush from out of the square, and possibly even more surprised to see seven black steeds galloping through the square at dusk. The River Row was bustling at this time of day, as the fish markets were just closing up, and the city folk were eager to get their money's worth before establishments shut down for the night. Darius was grateful the trip was not through the Muddy Way or the Street of Steel, or they surely would have been caught by the bustle of sunset traffic. Thankfully, people cleared out of their way, though none would be stupid enough to stand in the way of nearly sixty warriors. Soon enough, they came to the King's Gate, and saw a guard stationed in front.

"Make way," announced Darius, putting a hand on the amethyst-studded hilt of his bastard sword.

"And who are you to be giving orders to us?" said one of the gold cloaks.

"Darius Hill, bastard of the Rock. Surely you received orders to make way."

"Aye, we did," said the gold cloak.

"At first," said the watchman opposite to him. "But then we received new orders, from Lord Andrew Lannister, Protector of the Realm. Lord Lannister said to keep the city on lockdown, especially for you."

"Friends," began Darius, "This need not end in violence. It is getting late, and we outnumber you. You can step aside and live out your days peacefully, or you can oppose us and pay with your lives."

"Treason is a pesky devil, _ser_. Take your peaceful days and shove them up your arse." The first gold cloak spit, and slammed a lance on the ground. From the walls above the King's Gate rose twenty archers, and behind them came another three dozen.

"You've come prepared," mouthed Darius, unsheathing his sword. He could hear the Baratheon men slam their poleaxes, the Kingsguard unsheathe their blades, and the Baratheon twins arming themselves with warhammers.

The King's Gate descended into chaos, poleaxe against lance, warhammer against spear, shield against shield, and Darius could barely keep track of it. He slashed and hacked aimlessly until he found himself a few opponents, five to be exact. He had fought against worse odds in the Spicer Rebellion, when he was overwhelmed by half a dozen knights in the woods near Castamere. However, these men went down easily; they were untrained and underfed, whereas Darius was a trained highborn knight, and in the field, bastardy mattered not. The gold cloaks were evenly matched in numbers, but the quarrel left six of them dead for every Baratheon soldier down. By the time the great constellations appeared in the heavens, every gold cloak was dead or wounded, and Queen Aemma's escort rode through the King's Gate mostly unmolested.

"Well, that was fun," said Valkyrie as she cleaned blood off her steel warhammer.

"It surely gave me a rush, and I wasn't even fighting," said Lady Lily excitedly. "I must thank you, sers, for protecting Her Grace and I." Ser Samwise and the mystery knight nodded.

"This is why I enjoy Lady Lily so much. She's not shy or timid, like that Waynwood bitch, or Santagar's daughter. I knew them scarcely, but I could tell they're not made of the same fire," proclaimed Valkyrie.

"A good companion for Her Grace," affirmed the mystery knight, whose voice matched that of Ser Perros Blackmont.

Valkyrie went silent, neither Endrew nor Darius dared talk. Finally, Ser Samwise beckoned to his sworn brother, and Ser Perros responded to their expressions. "Why have I joined you? I petitioned Lord Andrew to make peace with your cause in court today, and he laughed. I took it as an affront on my honor. I have served House Targaryen for forty years, and I intend to continue serving House Targaryen for many more."

"I thank you for your service, Ser Perros," muttered Queen Aemma from beneath her hood.

"My sworn brother forgets that it was I who convinced him Her Grace was worthy of support, after he came to me speaking of dangerous conspiracy," laughed Ser Samwise.

"I understand we're heading for Storm's End," said Perros.

"Aye," replied Valkyrie. "To Storm's End!"


	6. Queensguard

350 AC

The ancient keep of Storm's End stood tall in the sunrise, red sunlight streaming across the huge drum tower and curtain wall. It had taken three days to travel down the kingsroad to the Baratheon's towering stronghold, though they had moved fast to avoid whatever sellswords and knives Andrew would have sent after them. The gates had opened at the arrival of Lord Endrew and Lady Valkyrie Baratheon, and the newcomers to Storm's End had given until high noon for everyone to settle in and return to the yard.

Darius settled into his new quarters, a very large room overlooking Shipbreaker Bay and Storm's End's harbor. He laid down his saddlebags and belongings, but kept his crimson plate on, as he knew what ceremony came next. The knight remembered when he first was knighted by his uncle, Ser Damon Brax, for whom he squired for six years. Ser Damon was a lean man who enjoyed the luxuries of nobility more than the rush of battle, and he bore no love for Darius, seeing him as a product of seduction and sin. Truthfully, Darius knew not how he was conceived, other than that Lord Tybolt Lannister and Lady Cerenna Brax lay together one night years ago. _It does only harm to dwell on these thoughts. I must ready myself for what comes._

Ser Darius walked down dimly lit staircases along the walls of the drum tower, which the residents of Storm's End called Durran's Spear, descending down to the front yard. The yard was shielded from sunlight, siege, and storms by a hundred-foot-tall stone curtain, which, like the rest of the castle, had never bore the slightest scratch in thousands of years. Arrayed across the yard amongst racks of weapons and firepits were all the men-at-arms and knights of Storm's End, with Queen Aemma standing in the middle, flanked by Endrew and Valkyrie. Ser Perros and Ser Samwise stood in front, white cloaks unwavering, guarding Aemma from any harm. Darius could also spot Lady Lily and the Baratheons' maester Pylos in the front, so he decided to stand near them.

Queen Aemma was clearly not ready for public speaking, nervously staring off into the distance. She eventually rose her voice, "Lord Endrew Baratheon, Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, Lord of Storm's End, Defender of Shipbreaker Bay, please approach."

Endrew stood in front of his queen, kneeling, "Yes, Your Grace?"

"In the eyes of gods and men," Aemma began, as Darius remembered the threatening-looking white weirwood in the godswood, "Swear an oath of fealty, my lord." Darius could only take pity on Aemma, she had no idea of how these sort of things worked. He wished he could call out to Maester Pylos, _Maester, help Her Grace, please_ , but he knew he would bring her more shame if he did.

"I, Endrew of the House Baratheon, pledge the fealty of House Baratheon, Lords of Storm's End, to Your Grace, Queen Aemma Targaryen, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm. Hearth and harvest I yield up to you, Your Grace. My swords, spears, and arrows are yours to command. Grant mercy to our weak, help to our helpless, and justice to all, and I shall never fail you. I swear it by the old gods and the new, in the sights of gods and men."

The men arranged in the yard knelt along with their liege, which was more than Darius could remember about the lords of the westerlands. Between the Spicer Rebellion, the dozens of smallfolk uprisings, and the constant insults to House Lannister, Casterly Rock could expect nothing out of its sworn swords, which could play to Aemma's advantage.

"Arise, Lord Endrew, and thank you," said Aemma, with an upward gesture with her hand, and Endrew arose with the rest of his men. "Ser Darius Hill, approach."

Darius was taken by surprise, but he would not disobey his queen, especially when his other alternatives all involved his head on a pike. "Your Grace, your word is my command," he proclaimed, kneeling.

"Arise, Ser Darius. You are famed throughout the Seven Kingdoms for your valor and valiance, though I have also heard expertise of economics exceeds the knowledge of many of us here. Would you do me the honor of serving on my small council as master of coin?"

"Of course, Your Grace, it would be a great honor, far surpassing any of my experiences thus far," Darius exclaimed half-jokingly. Truthfully, he knew almost nothing about money, but being a Lannister meant you had rumors spread about you. One week, you were an economic wizard, the next, you were an evil money-hoarding pig.

"Many men have named you the best sword in the westerlands, Ser Darius. Would you agree with this statement?"

"I would not say such a thing; it would be much too boastful for a bastard."

"I would venture to say you are, seeing how you defended me on our journey to Storm's End. I hope this is not too much to ask of you, for you have pledged enough of your services to me. Ser Darius, if you would choose, I name you to my Queensguard."

It came as a shock to him. There had been so much he had not done; he had not wed a woman, he had not seen a child of his own, he had not grown old with the woman he loved. He knew it to be a maiden's folly, romantic interpretations of what a perfect life should be, but he believed it was possible. As honorable as it would be to serve his queen, to protect her from all harm, and to shield her from danger, it sacrificed his life for hers. Darius did something unbelievably stupid, and whispered to Her Grace, "What's the punishment if I don't?"

It was Valkyrie who turned to him, speaking softly for once, "Be a Dragonknight, not a Kingslayer. Be an Arthur Dayne, not a Criston Cole. Do it."

"I accept your generous offer, Your Grace. It would be a great honor to serve on your Queensguard, to shield you from harm and danger for as long as I may live."

"Kneel, Ser Darius Hill, bastard of Casterly Rock," Queen Aemma proclaimed, beckoning to Ser Perros Blackmont, who held the white cloak of the Sworn Brothers of the Kingsguard draped over his arm. Darius knelt down once more, emotions conflicting in his head, as Ser Perros fastened the cloak to his crimson-clad shoulders. _This is me,_ thought Darius. His thoughts turned to Lily Tyrell, surprisingly. _The bastard's got a lady love_ , he could hear Valkyrie say. It made him think of what he was losing, but he attempted to dwell on what he was gaining. As he heard the latches click, he heard Aemma exclaim, "And rise, Ser Darius Hill, Sworn Brother of the Kingsguard."

The small council meeting had started as soon as Aemma's court had ended. Seated around Lord Endrew's table were Queen Aemma herself, Lord Endrew, Lady Valkyrie, Darius, Lady Lily, Maester Pylos and Ser Perros.

"I hope we're getting fancy titles," mused Valkyrie. "Endrew Baratheon's sister never quite suited me."

"Val, this isn't a joking matter," chided Endrew, and Valkyrie sighed, rolling her eyes.

"It is okay," said Aemma quietly, "I've decided to make Valkyrie my master of law."

"Har! Finally, I'm doing something more interesting than ol' Captain Stag over here!" Valkyrie laughed, and Endrew only glared at her. _If looks could kill_ , thought Darius, _though none is so accursed as the kinslayer._

"Of course, Darius is master of coin," continued Aemma.

"Not sure what I'll do with all this money you're entrusting me with, Your Grace. Maybe I'll buy myself a white sword to match the cloak."

"Lord Endrew will retain his position as master of ships, not because I favor Lady Valkyrie more," Aemma said with a glare, "but because he is an accomplished naval officer, and he served my father very well. I also name Ser Perros the Lord Commander of my Queensguard."

"Thank you, Your Grace," said the Bold Buzzard.

"He'll be better than whoever Andrew's got. Ser Huge Massive, is that his name?"

"Ser Hugor Massey," said Ser Perros bitterly.

"Aye, him. You can't deny he's a fat old arseface, though."

"Ser Hugor has seen better days," said Perros.

"Please do not insult my father's Kingsguard, Lady Valkyrie," Aemma chided. "Besides, we have more important matters."

Maester Pylos spoke in a well-fashioned manner, Darius noted. He was a man around seventy, who had served House Baratheon since Lord Stannis laid claim to the Iron Throne fifty years ago. When the war had calmed down, and the old maester at Storm's End passed away, the Conclave had permitted him to serve House Baratheon once more at their ancient keep. "We received a raven from Andrew Lannister this morning." The maester began to read aloud, " _By the order of Lord Andrew Lannister, Protector of the Realm, Lord Endrew Baratheon, Lady Valkyrie Baratheon, and Lady Lily Tyrell are summoned to King's Landing to reaffirm oaths of fealty to the Iron Throne. All those in company are charged with the safe return of Her Grace Princess Aemma Targaryen to King's Landing. Ser Perros Blackmont and Ser Samwise Taylor are charged with protecting Her Grace especially, wishing that they protect the princess at they did her father, King Aemon, blessed be his memory._ "

"Seems fine enough, you know, minus the 'Princess Aemma Targaryen' part," said Valkyrie nonchalantly.

"There is more, my lady," said the maester with a pained expression, " _All those with knowledge of Ser Darius Hill's whereabouts will be rewarded handsomely. It is the will of Lord Lannister that he be brought back to King's Landing alive, where he faces charges of treason and attempted kinslaying. Best regards, Grand Maester Ashe, writing the words of Lord Andrew Lannister._ "

The room fell silent, and it was Darius who spoke first. "There's a story for you, Darius Hill, the treasonous Kingsguard. I won't be the first, will I? I've got myself an uncle already who stabbed a king in the back." There was another long pause. "I think I'll need some wine," he said, rising from his seat.

"Speaking of ravens," said Valkyrie, "I ought to send a few to the North and the Vale. I did promise I'd rally Lady Stark and Lord Arryn to our cause."

"Just because you know Sansa Stark's granddaughter and Nestor Arryn's niece doesn't mean you can rally two of the Seven Kingdoms to our cause," muttered Lord Endrew, obviously angry with his sister.

"It may be a hopeless cause, but it's worth a shot," Aemma said optimistically. "Darius, pour a second cup of wine."

Darius turned around, "I'll just pour a glass for everyone." After Darius sat back down, passing around cups of wine, he rose his glass. "I propose a toast, to life, to victory, to safety and security, to Queen Aemma Targaryen! The first queen since Daenerys the Unburnt, and while she doesn't have the dragons, I'd gladly breathe fire at her enemies."

"To Queen Aemma," cried out the small council in unison, and while Maester Pylos and Ser Perros abstained, the rest of the councilors drank their fill.

"What a wonderful small council, eh?" Darius joked.

"Aye, a bastard, a brooding captain, a crazy woman, a flowery maiden, an old knight, an old maester, and the queen who keeps us all in check."

 _A flowery maiden._ It had been the first time Darius thought of Lady Tyrell since the ceremony, but she had been sitting at the far end of the table, not even calling out during the toast. She seemed visibly distressed, but a small council meeting was neither the place nor time to comfort her.

"This didn't go as planned," chuckled Aemma, "We'll save the real matters for when Lord Willas arrives. Maester Pylos sent a raven to Highgarden this morning, and hopefully we'll receive a reply telling of his acceptance of the office of Hand of the King. Meeting adjourned, though feel free to stay and drink."

Lady Lily stood up abruptly, exiting the room in a hurry. Darius felt obliged to follow her, and softly rose from his seat. Before the oaken doors to Lord Endrew's solar could close behind Lily, Darius opened them back up with mailed hands. Aemma must have sensed Lily's distress as well, as she held no qualms about his departure.

"Lady Lily!" Darius called off into the halls, nearly sprinting after her, though he could not move very fast in his plate. He was about ready to die from heat exhaustion after wearing the armor all day.

Eventually he found her outside her quarters, which were conveniently on the same level of the drum, and marked with a golden rose above the door. Valkyrie had sent some well-placed ravens, it had seemed.

"Spare me your words, ser," whispered Lily, tears slowly streaming from her eyes.

"Please, my lady, tell me what is the problem."

"Nothing."

"My lady, I beg you, allow me to help."

"You can help me by leaving," Lily said sternly.

"Lady Lily…"

"Leave, ser."

"I apologize, my lady," said Darius, turning.

"Spare me your apology. Spare me your words. Spare me your presence."


	7. Stag and Lion

350 AC

The ravens came early in the morning, and Maester Pylos had awoken Lady Valkyrie and Ser Darius at first light, summoning them to the ravenry. The ravenry of Storm's End was a lean and short tower connected by a small hallway from the drum, with shit-stained cages lining the stone walls. Golden sunlight streamed in through the window slivers in the tower, creating stripes of shadow and sun down the length of the ravenry.

Maester Pylos led Valkyrie and Darius down to his study, on the lowest level of the tower, below the ravenry. There were no windows to let in sunlight, and the screeches and caws of the birds above echoed down the turret, giving the study a fairly eerie aura.

"Lady Valkyrie, in the week since your ravens were sent to Winterfell and the Eyrie, I received replies from Lady Stark and Lord Arryn themselves. You will want to read their replies, my lady."

" _Lady Baratheon, I cannot begin to tell you how much I wish to support Princess Aemma's cause, but Winterfell received a raven from Lord Lannister, telling queer stories about my granddaughter. It pains me to say, Lady Angelina was taken to the capital, and I cannot risk her safety. I hope you will understand, as I know Lady Angelina has been a good friend of yours. Best regards, Lady Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell, Wardeness of the North._ " Valkyrie sighed, crestfallen. "I can feel the bullshit dripping off the page."

"Here is the other message, my lady. This arrived from the Eyrie."

"I wonder what Andrew Lannister forced Lord Nestor to say," said Valkyrie angrily. " _Lady Baratheon, the Vale's forces have been mustered. Lady Alyssa sails south as I write this, to pledge fealty to Queen Aemma. Send me no more ravens, for this is treason. Yours, Lord Nestor Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, Warden of the East, and Defender of the Vale._ "

"This is wonderful news!" said Darius excitedly. "With Lord Tyrell and Lord Arryn standing with us, Her Grace will have three of the Seven Kingdoms at her side!"

"I've known Angelina Stark since we were both young maidens, playing together at tourneys and each other's castles," Valkyrie began, speaking softly. "She was always nice… A bit of an idiot, but it didn't matter. Now, they've got here locked up in King's Landing, most like sitting in a cell."

Darius spoke up, surprisingly to both Valkyrie and himself, "Andrew is not the like to do such a thing."

"Ser, the things I've heard… The things I've seen… I see no reason to believe that Andrew Lannister wouldn't chain an innocent girl to stop a rebellion."

Darius sighed, his brain telling him that Andrew had slighted them all, but his heart told him of the friendship he had with his brother before their father's death. _Yes, our father. Lord Tybolt was just as much his father as he was mine._ "We can rescue Lady Angelina, if you so wish. If Queen Aemma allows me to accompany you, I will gladly assist you in the rescue of your friend."

"As long as you shut up about your brother, that would be a great help." Valkyrie put a hand on her sword and turned to the door to the old maester's study. "I'll pack my plate."

"Darius, I don't believe this to be a good idea," said Aemma quietly, "But it seems I must agree. It is important to bring the North into the fray, and if Lady Stark is on Andrew's side, we have lost."

Aside from Aemma, Lord Endrew stood facing Valkyrie and Darius. "House Grandison, House Staedmon, and House Lonmouth are loyal to the Iron Throne, and our cause will lose support if we do not act quickly."

"Lord Tyrell is arriving in a fortnight, if Maester Pylos tells truthfully," Aemma reasoned.

"Aye, and the Starks won't join us unless we save Lady Angelina. You let us go, so let us go," exclaimed Valkyrie.

"Leave, then, and make sure your temper is cooled when you return. Perhaps Lady Stark's attitude will assist."

Darius and Valkyrie mounted their horses; Darius the black stallion from their ride to Storm's End, and Valkyrie a white mare speckled with black spots she had ridden since a young age. Valkyrie was dressed in her usual black and gold hauberk, which made it easy to ride, and Darius wore a simple red brigandine, attempting not to bring attention to himself by dressing as a common man-at-arms. As the gates of Storm's End closed behind them, the crashing waves under Durran's Point resounding like cymbals, a feeling of excitement came over Darius. However, this excitement turned to dread as the knight had time to think on their ride up to the capital.

Though it hadn't been his top priority, Darius had a lingering suspicion that serving Queen Aemma was not what his father would have wanted him to do. Lord Tybolt, like many lords of Lannister before him, placed utmost important on family. In truth, it was the reason Darius had been given quarters at the Rock in the first place. When the bastard knight left Hornvale, he had been sent away under the presumption that Tybolt Lannister would turn him down. What would a high lord like him want his bastard for? But Lord Lannister saw the green tint of his eyes and knew that any Lannister, bastard or no, had a place at Casterly Rock. Now, Darius had betrayed the lord of House Lannister to serve someone the High Septon had explicitly refused to anoint as queen. For as much as he wanted to serve Queen Aemma, perhaps not on her Kingsguard but still at her side, Andrew was his brother.

Darius looked ahead at Valkyrie, or at least what he could make out of her figure in the drizzle that had begun to fall, and weighed whether he should ask her about his dilemma. He decided against it, knowing that any hint of treason would not sit well with Aemma, or at the very least her councilors. Endrew Baratheon had risked his reputation with the Iron Throne, Willas Tyrell and Nestor Arryn were as well, and Sansa Stark agreed to join a rebellion if her granddaughter were not in chains. Four great lords stood at Aemma's side, but Darius suddenly wondered if it would be worth it. Aemma would be hailed as Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, but Andrew would be deposed and perhaps killed for his treason. Furthermore, what would happen to the Lannisters who bore no part in this scheme? Lady Elna left the city a scant three days after her lord husband's death. Little Tyria and Jace had not even come to King's Landing with them, yet they would be the target of the cruel revenge exacted upon the Rock. To make it all worse, the people would call Darius a kinslayer, the knight who betrayed his own family and let them die. Darius Hill, just the same as the Kingslayer before him.

Before Darius had any chance to resolve his internal conflict, there was a rustling in the brush as the pair rode through the wood, and that was when the sellswords came upon them.

"What would two riders be doing in a storm like this?" asked a grizzled man with a hooked nose, who looked about five-and-thirty. "It's not safe."

"It's only a drizzle, friends," said Darius calmly, though he panicked slightly inside.

"Who are you two, anyway?" asked a second man, this one a bit younger, but bald with a shaggy blonde beard.

"Just a hedge knight, searching for the next lord to serve," Darius lied.

"And the wench?"

"My riding companion," Darius said coolly. He looked over to Valkyrie, who remained quiet but seemed very angry.

"Nice eyes you've got there," said a third man, who looked to be older than the other two. "Do you know who has eyes like that?"

 _They've got us now_ , thought Darius. "No. Would you spare me the trouble of guessing, my friend?"

"We're not your bloody friend, Hill," spat the third man. He turned to the other men, of which there were eight in all, shouting, "Seize them."

Valkyrie drew her axe, and Darius unsheathed his sword, but his reflexes were too slow. Though the two were able to slay two of the sellswords, both of their horses were cut down and they found themselves put in chains soon enough.

"Why do you have such a recognizable fucking face?" mumbled Valkyrie as the sellswords rode north, but she was kicked in the crotch by a rider, and that was the end of the conversation.

They had reached King's Landing soon enough, and the sellswords had made sure to keep Darius and Valkyrie fed for the most part. When the two were shown to the gold cloaks at the gates, the sellsword group gained themselves free passage to the Red Keep, and Darius knew it was over for him.

Arstan Grandison stood at the entrance to the throne room, and he escorted the sellswords to the foot of the throne, or what was left of it anyway. On top of the mangled iron mess sat Lord Andrew Lannister, Protector of the Realm, who sat with a very disapproving look on his face.

"Well, brother, I'd say this is a bit awkward, wouldn't you?"

"Lord Lannister," said the oldest sellsword, the one who identified Darius, "We present Ser Darius Hill and Lady Valkyrie Baratheon, we believe."

"Your belief is correct, good man. What was the reward promised, Maester Ashe?"

Grand Maester Ashe, who sat at the council table, called up to Andrew, "One hundred golden dragons for Ser Darius. We did not issue a reward for Lady Baratheon, my lord."

"Give these fine men another fifty golden dragons for her capture, Grand Maester. If you would excuse me, I would like to speak to Ser Darius alone. Grand Maester Ashe, please escort Lady Valkyrie to her new quarters in the Maidenvault. I am sure her friend Lady Stark would be delighted to greet her."

The sellswords left the throne room, and Maester Ashe and Ser Arstan took Lady Valkyrie to the Maidenvault.

"My my, Darius," Andrew said, rising from the throne when the room was clear, "You've gotten yourself into a bit of a predicament."

"What do you want from me, Andrew?"

"What have you been doing since I last saw you, brother? I've heard rumors, but nothing all too peculiar. Whisperers say that Princess Aemma has taken refuge at Storm's End, my commanders tell me that Highgarden and the Eyrie have rose up in rebellion against the Iron Throne. I'm less concerned with what plans you've been concocting, but I'd like to know what drove you and Lady Baratheon to ride right into my grasp."

"Lady Sansa Stark said you were keeping her granddaughter captive."

"Indeed, I have been keeping Lady Angelina in the Red Keep, which makes me no better than our lovely aunt Brotherfucker, I suppose. Angelina is living in the Maidenvault for the time being, until a representative of Winterfell joins me here in King's Landing."

"How did you get Angelina?" Darius's words were slurred and broken, more so with every sentence. He had been defeated.

"That's not something I'm willing to tell you, especially since you're a ward of the Crown, accused of high treason against the Iron Throne."

"The Starks will never back you. Winterfell hates House Lannister."

"Many people hate House Lannister, Darius. Willas Tyrell hates that his brother Loras died because of Queen Cersei's foolishness. The Martells hate that Lord Tywin killed Elia and Oberyn. The Tullys and Starks hate how House Lannister crushed the Young Wolf. Our own ancestors held Lady Sansa Stark hostage in this very castle, not to mention they also executed her father on holy ground. Targaryen supporters hate the Rock for Aerys's death. The ironborn hate the Rock for the Battle of Lannisport. The Vale hate the Rock for Jon Arryn's death. It's become the norm to hate House Lannister. I thought you would help me rebuild our house, Darius, as our father did before us. I thought you were worthy of a gold lion rather than a red one. But I suppose I thought wrong."

Ser Arstan walked back into the room.

"Ser Arstan, take Ser Darius to the black cells."


	8. The Broken Knight

350 AC

There came a knock on the cell door. Darius dared not answer, fearing it to be the executioner. Better Andrew believe Darius died in the cold, dark cell than on a chopping block up above.

Another knock.

Another.

Two more.

"Who is it?" called out Darius, his voice broken.

The door opened, and at first Darius was blinded by the candlelight, but when his vision adjusted, he was even more surprised.

"Come with me, brother."

Darius hobbled behind Andrew through secret passages, apparently told to the Protector of the Realm by one of the former little birds. It was common knowledge that Lords Varys and Qyburn, the masters of whisperers for the Baratheon kings, had little birds, or networks of child spies that knew everything about everyone. Some of them grew to adulthood. Most of them did not.

Eventually, they came to a ladder that seemed to go on forever. Andrew climbed with ease, but Darius had not walked in days, assuming he would die in the dark below.

"Where are we?" asked Darius hazily as he reached the top of the ladder.

"Father's last home."

They were in a small hallway, but in the next room were the Hand's Quarters, unchanged since Lord Tybolt's death.

"I wanted to talk to you about a few things, free from prying eyes and ears," said Andrew. "You're not going to like them. Sit down."

Darius took a seat quietly.

"My outriders have told me that Princess Aemma's host rides for King's Landing. She has many men, but I have more. I've sent out messengers that I wish to discuss terms with Aemma, but I decided I would send you, along with some of my personal guard. You will help me, or you will stay in the black cells until the small council and I decide on your execution date. So, Darius, will you help me?"

Darius nodded.

"Wonderful. Here are the terms. I am offering pardons to Lords Tyrell, Arryn, and Baratheon, provided they reaffirm their oaths of fealty to the Iron Throne. If Princess Aemma unconditionally surrenders, no man shall die, and no man shall be taken prisoner. In any case, I want my bride to know that she will be returned to me, no matter the outcome. If Lord Endrew asks about the wellbeing of his sister, I can assure you that Lady Valkyrie has been treated well, though she has been confined to the Maidenvault along with Lady Stark."

"Can I bathe… b-before I go?"

"My guard will determine what condition you will be presented in."

"What if they ask about me?"

"You can tell them anything you want, but know that my men don't take kindly to slander."

Darius stayed three more nights, he assumed, in the black cells before the captain of the Lannister guard retrieved him. He was not bathed, and he was tied to a wagon pulled by a horse, while some of the guardsmen pelted rocks at him during the ride to what Darius assumed would be Aemma's camp. It was a long ride, and Darius could see that the sun had moved past high noon by the time they reached their destination, though he could not recall where the sun had been when they left. All he knew was that he was bleeding from many places, and that the sun was blinding.

The captain of the guard untied the ropes holding him to the wagon, and he was forced to walk down to Aemma's tent, barefoot and bloodied. As he walked, he could see the various banners of those who had come to support Queen Aemma in the coming battle. The golden rose against green of House Tyrell, the silver falcon against blue of House Arryn, and the black stag against gold of House Baratheon were prominent, but others stood out as well. The striding huntsman of House Tarly, the clashing griffins of House Connington, the quartered suns and moons of House Tarth, the bronze runes of House Royce, and the golden tree of House Rowan stood out the most. There must have been soldiers from the Hightower, Cider Hall, Nightsong, and Heart's Home as well, but Darius could not see them.

Inside the tent stood Queen Aemma, Lord Endrew, Lord Willas, Lady Lily, Ser Perros, and a woman Darius could only presume to be Lady Alyssa Arryn. Queen Aemma wore a regal black and red gown, Endrew golden plate, Lord Willas silver and gold plate, Lady Lily a green and gold gown, Ser Perros the white armor of the Kingsguard, and Lady Alyssa a sky blue gown. None of them looked entirely pleased.

The Lannister guardsmen first withheld Darius from their view, standing in front of him and blending him in.

"I agreed to treat with Lord Andrew himself, not his guardsmen," Aemma said angrily.

"Lord Andrew wanted us to present his terms to you, but he feared his safety would be compromised if he walked into enemy encampment," said the captain.

"Lord Andrew's raven implied there would be a guest," said Lord Tyrell.

"Aye, and here he is," said the captain, and the guards parted. Aemma was surprised, and Lily gasped, but the rest of them stayed solemn and silent.

"L-lord Andrew Lannister w-wishes to pardon Lords Tyrell, Arryn, and B-baratheon if you s-surrender now. No m-man will be slain nor h-harmed." Darius could not bear to look them in the eyes.

"Darius… What have they done to you?" said Aemma quietly.

"Lord Lannister outnumbers y-you, and he assures you t-that surrender is your b-best option."

"What have they done with my sister?" asked Endrew steely.

"Lady Valkyrie has b-been treated well. She and Lady S-stark have been c-confined to the Maidenvault f-for their safety."

"They've sent him to guilt us," Lily muttered, "And if we slay these men here and now, Valkyrie dies."

"Is that a threat?" asked the Lannister captain.

"Would you like it to be?" Endrew muttered with the fury of a thousand men.

"Lord Lannister's f-final term is t-that either way…" He paused. "Either way, his b-bride will be returned to him."

Aemma rose her voice, but spoke to the Lannister captain. "Tell your Lord Lannister that I would rather fling myself onto the spikes below Maegor's Holdfast before I marry him. Tell your Lord Lannister that if he wishes to pardon the high lords of Westeros, he can do as he likes, but I will not surrender." She looked back at Darius. "I'm sorry."

And they were off.


	9. The Strangler's Grasp (and Fixed Vote)

350 AC

Three days had passed until the knocking came once again. Outside the cell, Darius could hear two voices squabbling outside. The doomed knight dared not answer the visitors, but it mattered not, as Ser Arstan Grandison's boot came soaring through the wood.

"Come with me."

"Am I going to like where I end up?" asked Darius, broken.

"That's not for me to decide."

Arstan and three other Lannister guards walked Darius up the staircases of the dungeon tower until they eventually came to ground level. Exiting the tower, the sunlight once again blinded him, as he had not seen light in days. They shuffled through the main courtyard, past highborn lords and ladies with looks of scorn upon their faces. Arstan led the group across the moat into Maegor's Holdfast, and the familiar dragon sculpture overlooking the foyer was a grim omen of what he might see next.

They came to a rest at the small council chamber, where Lord Andrew and Grand Maester Ashe sat, their expressions dark. Ser Arstan took a seat opposite Ashe, while Andrew sat at the head of the table.

"Thank you, Lord Commander," said Andrew.

"Her Grace isn't here… Has the battle not happened?" Darius asked.

"Your army of traitors was crushed," Arstan said steely.

"Now now, Ser Arstan, we mustn't lie to my brother. Aemma's loyalists gave us a hard fight, I won't lie. Lord Tyrell is a shrewd battle commander, and Lord Baratheon is sharp as well. We met them on the field, mostly our own men, but some from Rosby, Duskendale, and Harrenhal. Ser Samwise Taylor led the van… Valiant Ser Sam, a sight to behold. He fell in the first hour of fighting. Hours passed, and by sunset, we drove our lines to your camp."

"You say we," said Darius softly, "Were you on the field?"

"The royal we, Darius. Ironically, as it so happens. I am not a royal, no, because my betrothed was slain in the fighting."

"What did you do to Her Grace?" Darius muttered.

"Nothing. She saw us coming and took her own life. Poison, most likely; no stab wounds. Maester Ashe has been examining her corpse before we lay her in state."

"My lord, I suspect the Strangler," Maester Ashe added.

"A bit of poetic justice? Darius, you remember the stories of King Joffrey the Illborn, yes? The stupidity of our forbearers brought forth the demonic whelp, and we were lucky enough that drunken Robert Baratheon let Joffrey share his name so our lord father would not have to bear the shame of association. Joffrey was the King on the Iron Throne, but his detractors called him a king with no claim all the same. He too died in the Strangler's grasp."

"Do you mean to compare Aemma Targaryen to a bastard born of incest?"

"Gods no. I was merely making a point. Unfortunately for you, we must come down to the reason of our meeting. With Princess Aemma dead, Lords Tyrell and Arryn heading back for their castles, Lord Baratheon broken and friendless, Lady Baratheon in our hands, and Perros Blackmont on the run, who is there to blame? The smallfolk want vengeance against the rebels, but most of the rebels are gone or no longer rebellious."

Darius swallowed, understanding the situation. "I see."

"Darius, brother, if you had just stood by my side, we could have ruled the Seven Kingdoms as brothers. I could have given you the name of our father. You could have shared in this power, but instead you betrayed not only me, but the realm."

"I don't want your power. I want the real heir to ascend the throne."

"Don't you see? There is no real heir, and the throne is a smoking ruin. This mummer's farce of a rebellion has fractured the country, the last of a 350-year dynasty is dead, and the small council grows ever smaller. I needed a right hand, someone I could trust, but I was given an adversary I needed to defeat. And here you stand, defeated."

"Kill me already, Andrew. Just do it. My life has no purpose any longer."

"May the gods have mercy on your soul."

"Fuck the gods, and fuck you."

The guards dragged him out to the moat of Maegor's Holdfast, and a smith swiftly fetched a block. All the highborn gathered around the scene to see the Iron Throne's enemy be decapitated. The captain of the guard threw Darius's head down, and the crowd grew silent.

"Before you is Ser Darius Hill, an anointed knight, son of Lord Tybolt Lannister of Casterly Rock," announced Grand Maester Ashe, "He stands guilty of high treason against the crown."

Hushed whispers ran through the crowd before Andrew stepped forward.

"This man betrayed the Iron Throne, the Faith of the Seven, and his family in one fell swoop." Andrew turned down to face Darius. "In the name of the Crown of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, I, Lord Andrew Lannister, Protector of the Realm, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport, and Warden of the West, sentence you to die. If you have any last words, please speak them now."

Thoughts rushed through Darius's mind. He was not afraid of death, but he wanted his final words to be powerful. Andrew had changed, Darius realized. He was not the shrewd lordling of old, he was a power-hungry high lord, and he had come out on top in the game of thrones.

"A crown does queer things to a man's head, brother. Only the wisest of rulers can handle the pressure of ruling, only the most capable of politicians can handle the stress of politics, and only the most effective of monarchs can handle the responsibility of representing a monarchy. I knew you once, but the Andrew Lannister I see standing above me is not the brother I knew. I hope this new Lord Lannister is wise, capable, and effective. If you don't mind, please be all three when chopping off my head."

As Andrew raised the sword, a few things came to Darius's mind. Not many men who passed the sentence swung the sword, or at least, not down south. It was a northern custom, and an honorable one at that. Second, Darius thought of all the people who would be affected by his death. He thought not of Lord Endrew, who had been a great ally, or Lady Valkyrie, who had been a great friend, but of Lady Lily Tyrell. His induction into Aemma's Kingsguard had taken a toll on her, but Darius hadn't paid much mind to it. _Is she afraid of losing me?_ It was a silly thought, one for fairy tales, but the closer the blade came to severing Darius Hill in twain, the more it made sense. The final thought was the blade. The hilt was golden, with a lion-shaped pommel and rubies glittering in the quillons. It was Lord Tybolt's sword. How ironic that Lord Tybolt's bastard would be executed by his own blade, albeit post-mortem. Or perhaps it was far from ironic.

The blade had struck. It didn't hurt, surprisingly. Well, it didn't at first, but the blade sliced through quickly. Darius could hear cries of "Kinslayer" in the crowd as cold metal broke apart his spine. And that was it.

 **Hi there, it's me, Boltstriker. See, while Ser Darius's death must be very jarring for those of you at home (or probably not, considering you're probably not invested in the lives of fictional characters all too much), it seems we're at an impasse. Unfortunately, I don't do well with multiple POV characters telling stories concurrently, as evidenced by the distinct lack of other POV characters. Now we must find one more. I will be linking a Strawpoll below, because I want this decision to be up to you, the readers. I will admit, I am already leaning toward a certain character, but I have ultimately decided it should be your choice. Here are the choices:**

 **Lady Valkyrie Baratheon, Lady of Storm's End**

 **Lord Endrew Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End**

 **Lady Lily Tyrell, Lady of Highgarden**

 **Grand Maester Ashe, Maester of the Citadel**

 **Vote here: strawpoll me/10436869 (Add the dots)**

 **So, why I have included such a wildcard as Maester Ashe, but not someone as integral as Andrew, or perhaps more interesting as Maester Pylos? Well, Ashe is not a schemer (spoiler alert), he's just a loyal servant who's good at his job. He could provide a window into the landscape of King's Landing without breaking the Martin rule of "Don't make kings POV characters." Andrew, while not** _ **technically**_ **a king, is still Protector of the Realm. Think Cromwell, or Richard of York. Maester Pylos may or may not know more than he lets on, since he did serve Stannis and all, and I believe his canonical story may not be done yet. So, that's my reasoning for the fourth choice. Of course, the Baratheon twins and Lady Lily would give a window into the aftermath of Aemma's councilors, and ultimately these three characters will be more integral to the plot. So, as we mark the end of Phase 1 and begin Phase 2, I'd like to thank all the readers up until now. I apologize for writing in blocks (this is the last of the second block of writing), and hopefully the story will make up for it. Of course, criticism is always welcome; I always seek to better my writing. Please leave a review if you have any concerns, criticisms, theories, or ways you think I could better the plot. Or, you could be like my good friend illuminatemmie and just leave a review saying "wow o3o good job u did it." Anyway, thanks a million.**

 **Additionally, I would like to apologize to real-life Andrew for portraying you as a power-hungry kinslayer in my fictional fanon. You will never read this, and we won't speak of this in real life, but I hope giving you control of the Seven Kingdoms makes up for you being a colossal literary dick. Also, sorry to CrestfallenHeart for giving you an offscreen death. You'll be back in flashbacks, I promise.**

 **That about wraps it up! Thanks for reading, once again. Remember, when you play the game of thrones, you either win or you return your copy of Crusader Kings 2.**


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